


Everything Here Is Beautiful

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Comfort, Community: spnkink_meme, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Friendship/Love, Happy, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Scars, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2019-04-19 17:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: A fill for the spnkink_meme prompt; Sam/Dean, Dean wearing Sam's clothes, hurt/comfort, cuddling





	Everything Here Is Beautiful

Dean loves the rain and how the aroma of earth and flowers tickle his nose before the wet droplets fall from the sky. He enjoys the peaceful drip-drip-drop of April showers as he snuggles with his brother at night. Closing his eyes, listening to the beautiful sound of rain falling outside, he shivers. A chilly frost in his bones from a terrible cold leaves Dean achy-sore and he cannot seem to get warm, no matter how many cozy blankets Sam wraps him in. To make matters worse he is still nursing three bruised ribs and a twisted ankle. 

Dressed only in boxers, a change of wardrobe is needed to guard him from the chill. His leather jacket is bulky and heavy and although it would be warm, it would not be comfortable during snuggle time with Sam. The Henley mixed with his black boxers is comfortable, but not enough to warm him. 

Dean pouts as he rummages through their duffel bags in search of clothes that will be both comfortable and warm, and unfortunately he has no luck. He groans in pain and icky, feeling miserable. But his brother, bless Sam, comes to the rescue with a pair of his soft black sweats and his charcoal gray Hoodie and a cute dimpled smile. Dean nearly bounces with excitement, he cannot, the pain is too much, but he makes adorable grabby hands for the offering.

Not too hot, but instead suitably warm and baggy on his lean frame, yet not so loose that he risks flashing his brother, through Sam would enjoy that, the sweats and hoodie are the perfect wardrobe for keeping him warm during cuddling. Best of all the scents of when Sam wore it last, when they made love, lingers on the cloth. 

Dean thinks back to a few weeks ago when they made passionate, sweet love, all while Sam was whispering words of devotion and love. The memory makes Dean tingle with happiness. Rosy pink cheeks sparkle into a smile as Dean curls up beside Sam in the crook of his arm, laying his head on his chest. The Hoodie is soft and fluffy and smells like Sam—of home and love. Sam tucks the blankets around him and kisses Dean’s forehead, before his hand starts up a soothing rhythm rubbing gently across his back. 

Blissfully cozy, Dean smiles, “Thanks, Sammy. I love you.” 

Sam hugs Dean, cuddling him fondly. “Love you too, baby boy.” 

Dean sleeps on his stomach, his chest rising and falling evenly as he breathes tranquilly, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. He takes up a large portion of the bed, leaving Sam almost hanging off the side—which Sam doesn’t mind having just a single little spot on the bed held for him; Each time he gets a chance to have Dean like this, so peaceful and calm and relaxed, dreaming peacefully without the nightmares to haunt him, Sam wants to keep his big brother like that. 

As Dean sleeps peacefully, Sam looks on with fondness. His eyes run down the lines of his brother’s nude back, carefully, he ran his finger slowly over the scars. Across the ragged line and down the trail of golden skin dotted with honey hue freckles. He can feel the throbbing vein he found under each scar, they seem to thump in tune with his brothers breathing. 

Dean sleeps beside him, undisturbed. Each scar was blood Dean spilled to save Sam. To keep him safe. Every mark was a war wound. Sam trails his fingers back over the scars, remembers the Chupacabra that left its mark three summers ago, a Banshee who’s wailing cries threw Dean into a wall of glass at the museum, and an old witch who liked knives just a little too much. 

Sam could map every mark on his brother’s body to a specific moment in the past, and all for him. To keep him safe. To keep the promise that he made when he was a little boy, all those years ago. Dean will run himself into the ground when it comes to a hunt, not resting until the world is safe, driving himself to the verge of weariness until he is pale, except for the dark shapes under his eyes and is body arches miserly. Which is why now, when all is calm in their lives, having a blissful and safe Dean in his bed is the best gift Sam could ever wish for. 

And on days like today when the world is safe, and they don’t have a hunt, he gets Dean all to himself, they have nothing of import to worry about, and they can dwell on the sweet kisses they share as they cuddle in bed.

On this morning, Sam stumbles into the bathroom and finds Dean already under the spray, the pale skin of his chest and back flushed rosy pink by the steam, the small smile of bliss on his face as he groans happily as the soothing hot water trickles down his body. Sam lingers for a moment, thinking how beautiful his brother looks when he is calm and relaxed and at ease, how he hardly ever is, and then he moves on to the kitchen, led there by the rumble in his tummy.

When his brother finds him a little while later, Dean's lips are light pink, like the color of his rosy cheeks as he blushes. His smile is crooked and adorably cute, dirty blond hair unruly and spiky on this calm Sunday morning. Dean grunts softly and Sam nods back, a language they have without words, a glance or nod or wordless noise that could say everything without saying anything. Sam watches him fondly, fingertips calling to mind the way his touch made his big brother tremble in throes of passion, the way his lips tasted so sweet like honey. 

The shirt Dean wears, which belongs to Sam, smells like Sam and hangs loose and too big on Dean, tumbling to the side to slip partly off his shoulders as he staggers into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. Even from a few steps back, Sam can see the warmth on his brother’s skin, knowing that if he were to brush his fingertips lightly down the honey-golden freckled canvas, soothing warmth would greet his own skin. 

Moving closer, Sam steps up behind his brother who still has not woken up entirely, Dean is not a morning person, given the way he yawns and turns to cuddle into his arms, his eyes closing and his body melting into the embrace the moment he is hugged. Rubbing his cheek against Sam's chest, Dean yawns sleepily, and Sam grins, kisses his forehead, gently petting at his hair. Sam holds Dean close, grateful for another peaceful day in this heavenly paradise. 

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/89743.html?thread=35363727#t35363727)


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